<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Demon's Wife by The_Bentley</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440200">The Demon's Wife</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley'>The_Bentley</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crowley Loves the Bentley (Good Omens), Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Fluff, Human Bentley (Good Omens), Humor, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), London, Multi, Sentient Bentley (Good Omens), St James's Park (Good Omens), The Bentley Loves Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:13:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley accidentally wishes the Bentley human for twenty-four hours.  Now what's a demon to do?  With a little help from Aziraphale, he shows the naive Bentley life around London.  </p><p>The M rating is for the mention of NSFW body parts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale &amp; The Bentley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), The Bentley &amp; Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Demon's Wife</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Loosely inspired by the Doctor Who episode "The Doctor's Wife".</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Sunday night after the thwarted Apocalypse, their trials, a nice lunch at the Ritz and some time spent at the bookshop, Aziraphale became overwhelmed enough by it all that he needed some time alone.  Respecting that, Crowley limped home, exhausted and in need of a bit of space to process it all himself.  He would call Aziraphale in the morning.</p><p>Exiting the taxi he hailed to take him back to his flat, he stopped a moment beside the Bentley to caress its hood lovingly in his own little welcome back ritual.  A tender smile crossed his face as he walked around it examining the glossy paint job for any sign of the destruction he witnessed a day ago.  Aziraphale was right – not a scratch.  Sitting down in the driver’s seat, all he noticed was the smell of leather.  Not a whiff of burning metal and rubber remained.  Running a finger along the steering wheel, he couldn’t believe his luck.  Adam had reset everything perfectly.  Even his collection of spare sunglasses was back in the glove compartment.</p><p>“Good to have you back.  Here’s to many more years.  I’ll see you in the morning.”</p><p>Getting out, he headed tiredly up to his flat where he collapsed fully clothed on his bed, not even bothering to turn down the covers.  Sinking into his plush pillow and mattress, he had few coherent thoughts before sleep overtook him.</p><p>
  <em>The tales that car could tell if it had the ability . . . That would be interesting.</em>
</p><p>Morning came too early and Crowley groggily rolled out of bed to wish himself and his clothes in a more presentable state.  Wrinkle-free with perfectly coiffed hair, he stumbled down the hall towards the kitchen and more importantly, the coffee maker.  He didn’t make it.</p><p>Sleeping on his leather couch was a black-haired young lady dressed in what appeared to be a beaded garment.  In fact, she was wearing an evening dress straight out of the 1920s.  Crowley pulled up short, stopping a few metres from the couch to stare in surprise.  He reached in his pocket to pull out a handy pair of sunglasses that were not there a moment ago.</p><p>“Who the heaven are you?” he asked rather loudly, startling her awake.</p><p>The young lady bolted to a sitting position, looked at him, looked down at her own body and screamed, wiggling her hands like they were brand new to her.</p><p>“Where are my wheels?”</p><p>“Your wheels?” asked Crowley, caught off-guard.</p><p>“Everything’s gone!  My windows . . . and bonnet . . . and headlights . . .”  She suddenly looked horrified.  “I don’t have an engine!”</p><p>“Are you barking?  People don’t have engines!”  Crowley was completely flustered now.  With the exception of higher-ranking demons, nobody could enter his flat without his permission.  “How did you even get<em> in</em> here?”</p><p>She looked up and actually examined for him for the first time instead of simply registering him as another person in the living room.  “My demon!” </p><p>She stood up, showing off her flapper-style dress as she did, a beaded silvery-grey thing with heavy black beading down the sides in a gentle swooping design.  A black sequined headband encircled her black curly bob.  With a squeal she all but leapt into Crowley’s arms, kissing him frantically around the face and neck while he tried in vain to peel her legs off of him so he could set her on the floor.</p><p>“Get off!  I really would rather you didn’t . . .” said Crowley finally wrestling her to her feet and moving a wary distance away from this unhinged lady.  “Who are you anyway?  Did Hell send you up to assassinate me or something?  Is that it?”</p><p>She looked confused.  “No.  But I always missed you when you had to make extended visits to Hell.  I hated sitting outside, parked, not knowing when you’d be back to drive away in me.”</p><p>“Parked?  Drive away?  You talk like you’re a car.”</p><p>“But I am.”</p><p>“No, you’re completely off your trolley and I have no clue how you know I’m a demon.”</p><p>She approached him again, cornering him by the shelves containing his old CD collection.  “I’ve known since you bought me back in 1926.  I tried to please you that first drive you took in me, but I just couldn’t go fast enough, so you used a little of your demonic powers on me.”  She was awfully close now but at least she had let up on the kissing.  “You told me you loved me.”</p><p>Crowley’s brain caught up with his shock and he looked disbelievingly at her.  “You’re the car?”</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>“My Bentley?”</p><p>She nodded again.  “Yes.”</p><p>“No.”  With a swift movement he slithered out past her to pace the living room.  “The Bentley is parked out in front of the building.”</p><p>But he was running to the balcony, ripping open the doors and leaning out over the railing before the young woman could speak again.  Looking at the street below, he saw the parking space lay vacant.  Panicked he looked back at her. </p><p>Pulling his mobile out of his pocket, he pressed a few buttons on the screen and held it to his ear, waiting.</p><p>“<em>We’re closed</em>,” said the voice on the other end.</p><p>“Aziraphale, it’s me.  Can you by chance come over here as soon as possible?  I want to show you something.”</p><p>“<em>Can’t you drive over here and show me</em>?”</p><p>“No.  You might say I’m currently without transportation.”</p><p>“<em>Oh, dear.  What happened?</em>”</p><p>“I . . . I can’t explain it.  You just have to see for yourself.”</p><p>Around half an hour later, the angel and the demon stood in front of the couch where the young lady dressed in vintage clothing was examining the remote to Crowley’s television like she had never seen one before.</p><p>“She’s a woman . . . and she’s your Bentley?” asked Aziraphale quietly.</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Did you wish really hard?”</p><p>“Will you stop it?  What do I do now?”</p><p>But before Aziraphale could give an answer they were noticed.  The Bentley looked up at him with a cheery smile and waved. </p><p>“You’re ‘Angel’ aren’t you?”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” he said in a disconcerted tone.  It wasn’t every day you conversed with a car.  “Aziraphale is my proper name.”</p><p>“You’re the only passenger I ever carry, although there was that baby that one time.”  She cocked her head to one side.  “Adam is it?  How is he?”</p><p>Crowley blinked at her and the sudden change in conversational subjects.  “Umm, he didn’t blow up the world?”</p><p>Instantly she was on her feet, arms around him and trembling.  “Don’t say that.  Don’t ever say that.  I remember being on fire.  I feel the pain of burning now that I have nerves.”  She shuddered harder.  “Do you know what it’s like to get ripped apart?  I felt myself fly into a million pieces, and then there was nothing until I woke up again in front of the building right where you always park me.  Please never let that happen to me again.  It was frightening.”</p><p>“I’d rather you were whole . . . and a car to be honest.  This is freaking me out.”  Crowley carefully peeled the Bentley off of him again.  “Can I ask you a question?  Why do you always . . .”  He was at a loss for words, this idea just popping into his head spur of the moment.  He hunted for something to ask her.  What did one ask a car?</p><p>“Always play bebop by that one group,” supplied Aziraphale.  “Queen, is it?”</p><p>“I just happen to like it,” she replied simply.  “I try to play music that fits with my demon’s mood, but for some reason, I fancy the singer’s voice.”</p><p> “So you’re sentient in car form?” asked Crowley.</p><p>“Of course I am.”  She seemed a bit offended by his question.  “You can’t pour that much demonic power into an object you love without some consequences.  So, here I am.”  She smiled cheekily at them both.  “Why do you think you never get flat tires?  Or need to change my oil?  Or the wind screen wipers come on without you pushing a button?  Or you get a smooth ride despite me not having the struts and shock today’s cars have?  It’s partially because of your powers and partially because of me.”</p><p>“Oh, good lord . . . and the things, I’ve said to you . . .”</p><p>Aziraphale hid a laugh; Crowley glared angrily at him.</p><p>“They’re wonderful.  I do appreciate them,”  The Bentley gave him the most brilliant of smiles.  “Not many cars get sweet nothings whispered at them.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked like he was about to burst.</p><p>“You enjoying this, angel?” Crowley asked quietly.</p><p>“Oh, very much so.  Um, you’d better stop her.  I think I’ll go make some tea.”  The angel made a hasty retreat to the kitchen, his face suddenly very red.</p><p>Crowley turned to find the Bentley looking down her dress, one fallen strap threatening to reveal even more.  No wonder Aziraphale left in a hurry.  A bit panicked himself, Crowley wasn’t quite sure what to do.</p><p>“I don’t understand these bodies.  Why is there a layer that can come off?” </p><p>He was at her side gingerly pulling up the strap before disaster struck.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever seen an unclothed person before, but the Garden of Eden and bathhouses in Rome were a far cry from a now-human Bentley whose bodice was perilously close to showing him more than he wanted to see on his car.</p><p>“Let’s just leave that on.”</p><p>“What are these and why don’t you have them?”  she asked, hands squeezing her breasts.  She once again looked down her bodice at them, leaving her straps up this time.</p><p>Crowley turned away before he flushed with embarrassment.  “I’m not touching that one . . . let’s just say women have them but men don’t.”</p><p>Waiting a few beats, he faced her again to notice the beading on her bodice resembled her grill just as the curving black sides of her dress resembled her fenders.  This whole morning was nothing short of a completely surreal experience despite how interesting it was to talk to his car.  <em>Really</em> talk to his car, not just say things to it . . . <em>her</em> . . . from behind the steering wheel but knowing he wasn’t ever going to get a response.</p><p>“I need a drink.”</p><p>“Angel said he was going to make tea.  Isn’t that a drink?”</p><p>Crowley frowned at her.  “His name’s Aziraphale.”</p><p>“Why do you call him angel?”</p><p>“Because he literally <em>is</em> one.”  Crowley scrubbed his face with his hand.  He was not discussing any potential subtext that might arise in regards to his choice of nicknames for Aziraphale with his mode of transportation.  That was not going to happen.</p><p>“Tea’s ready!” called Aziraphale.  “Shall I just serve it here or the living room?”</p><p>“I think there would be best,” Crowley called back.  “C’mon.  We’re going to the kitchen.  You can try tea.”</p><p>“Will I like it?  I’ve hardly consumed anything.  Ninety-three years and you’ve only bothered to put petrol in my tank once.”</p><p>“Don’t start . . .”</p><p>They entered the kitchen with its uncluttered grey granite counters and perfectly spotless stainless steel appliances.  Aziraphale was getting milk out of the fridge.  The Bentley approached excitedly.  She poked her head in, gazing upon the perpetually filled shelves as excitedly as a child viewing the presents at their birthday party.  She pulled out jars to examine more closely, tasted the fresh vegetables while asking Aziraphale the names of different foods.  She eyed the wine bottles like they were familiar. </p><p> Nearby Crowley slowly came undone as he witnessed the scene. </p><p>“Carrots are pretty good,” she announced before waving a wine bottle in his face.  “You buy a lot of this stuff.  I know because you set it on my backseat to bring it home.  What is it?”</p><p>“Wine . . . I . . . I can’t do this.  You’re my car!  I’m talking to my own car in human form!”  He exited the kitchen, Aziraphale looking worriedly after him.</p><p>“Here you go, my dear girl.”  The angel sat her down in front of a cup of tea which she leaned forward and sniffed.  “You try that.  You can sweeten with sugar if you want or put a little milk in it.  I’ll be right back.”  He went off quickly to find Crowley, who was pacing the living room.  “Is everything all right?”</p><p>“What do you think?  I suddenly don’t have a car, but apparently from the way she kissed me earlier, acquired a girlfriend.  This isn’t working, angel.”  He stopped his pacing long enough to look out on to the balcony where he could see his parking spot sitting vacant beyond it.  Leaning his head against the window, he sighed.  “What do I do now?”</p><p>“I don’t know.  How did this happen?”</p><p>“I have no clue.”</p><p>They didn’t notice the Bentley had quietly come into the living room from the kitchen.  She looked from one to the other before speaking, a cup of tea in her hands.  “I’m only human for twenty-four hours then I go back to being a car.  You said you wanted to talk to me, so here I am.”</p><p>“Ok . . . fine.  We’ll talk.  Sometimes when I let you drive, you take a totally different route than I would.”  Crowley took a seat on the couch.</p><p>“I take the faster one,” she retorted.  “Your mental map of London isn’t as accurate as you think.  But if I had been able to tell you that, it’s not like you’d pay attention.”</p><p>“I pay attention just fine.”</p><p>“Which way do my doors open?”</p><p>“They’re hinged at the rear.”</p><p>“Where for the longest time did you try to grab for the handle?”</p><p>“Towards the back.  I know . . . they’re towards the front.”  Crowley slouched down, crossing his arms with a cranky frown; Aziraphale couldn’t stop laughing.  “Shut up or I’ll turn some of your first editions human so they can tell you off for not handling them properly or something.”</p><p>“Shall we go out?” asked Aziraphale once he got control of his laughter.  “We have twenty-four hours and it would be a waste to spend it in here.  It’s London; there’s plenty to do.  We can show you the park, go to art museums, dine at the Ritz, take in a film later.”</p><p>“Hit a pub or two . . .” muttered Crowley.</p><p>“Hush.”</p><p>What’s that big wheel in the sky?” the Bentley asked.  “The one over by the river.  We drive by it occasionally.”</p><p>“The London Eye?” Crowley said.  “Tourist trap.”</p><p>“I’ve never been on that,” gushed Aziraphale as he miracled his cup of tea to himself.  “I hear you get a wonderful bird’s eye view of the city.”</p><p>“You’re an angel.  If you want a bird’s eye view of the city, you can literally get one on your own wings.”</p><p>“Crowley, don’t be a killjoy.  It would be nice to show Bentley here what she wants to see.  It’s not often she gets a chance to see things from the point of view of a human.  She always has to wait at the kerb.”</p><p>With a groan, Crowley produced tickets.  The Bentley squealed, throwing her arms around him which prompted him to remove and place her a couple of metres away from him with an explanation of personal space.</p><p>“Well, I supposed we’d better hail a cab or something.  Not used to that,” Crowley commented.</p><p>The three of them eventually crowded into the backseat of a taxi heading off on adventures that both the Bentley and Aziraphale were excited to experience.  Crowley himself was less sure, but the angel was right.  They couldn’t just hang around the flat for the next twenty-four hours even if Crowley would rather forget his car suddenly had the audacity to become human for a day.  He sighed and watched the scenery go by thinking they would have been there by now if he was driving.</p><p>He also realized that the Bentley was still in her vintage dress which would attract a lot of unwanted attention.  Discreetly he changed it to a less sparkly version of itself so it looked like a regular unbeaded sundress.  He handed her a black coat as well.</p><p>“Here.  It’s not quite the right weather to have bare arms.  I don’t want to listen to you complain about getting cold.”</p><p>“Oh, thank you!”</p><p>“Don’t mention it.”</p><p>“I think we’re here,” said Aziraphale cheerfully as he paid the fare and they all climbed out.</p><p>The Bentley stared up in awe at the observation wheel as she shrugged into the coat with a little help from Aziraphale.  Grinning at him she turned to Crowley.</p><p>“How can you be grumpy over something this wonderful?”</p><p>“Years of practice,” he replied.  “Shall we?”</p><p>The wheel did not stop for passengers but moved slow enough people were able to get on and off with no trouble.  Soon the three of them were in a capsule heading up towards the rooftops of London.  The Bentley let out a squeal as she stood at the window excitedly taking in the view.  Aziraphale appeared just as delighted, standing there next to her and pointing out various landmarks.  Crowley sulked on the bench in the center of the pod, letting them have their fun. </p><p>The entire trip took an hour but neither the Bentley’s nor the angel’s enthusiasm let up.  Crowley was seriously ready to engage in another activity by that time.  Obviously as a winged being he was not afraid of heights, but riding a Ferris wheel in an enclosed capsule was a far cry from his preferred method of transportation which was currently unavailable.</p><p>Aziraphale accosted him as they walked away.  “Do try to have some fun at least for her sake.  I don’t care how weird you think this is you can be polite.  I’m well aware you possess that ability even if you don’t practice the skill often.” </p><p>“Fine.” said Crowley shortly.</p><p>“What are we doing next?”</p><p>“Art.  If we’re going to be out showing the Bentley around London, we’re going to a bloody art museum.  I believe Tate Modern’s a mile that way.”  He pointed eastward before heading off to hail another cab.</p><p>“Art is quite lovely,” said Aziraphale.  “I think you’ll rather enjoy it.”</p><p>The Bentley smiled and nodded at him.  Her demon had called her a “work of art”.  Were they going to see other cars?</p><p>Crowley had a cab by the time Aziraphale and the Bentley caught up with him.  Climbing in, the three took off for Tate Modern.  Aziraphale exited first, helping the Bentley out while Crowley got himself out the other side of the cab.  He looked up at the old power-station-turned-art-museum then at the people milling around it.</p><p>“It doesn’t look too crowded,” he commented shoving his hands in his pockets before swaggering off in its direction.</p><p>The Bentley had other ideas.  She gazed riverside and started to walk around the building towards the garden in the back.  Stopping she kept staring out at the river ignoring the other pedestrians walking past her.  Aziraphale gave Crowley a puzzled look; the demon shrugged in reply.</p><p>Seeing the Millennium Bridge, she gave an excited cry before she took off running towards it with her two companions in tow.  Racing the entire distance to it, she ran up the pedestrian bridge then went quite a ways out on it, stopping at the railing to gaze over the edge into the muddy brown water below.  She looked up at Crowley with a smile as he arrived.  Aziraphale was some distance behind.</p><p>“Remember crossing this?” she asked, excitement mixed with nostalgia in her voice.</p><p>“We cross the river a lot,” replied a confused Crowley.</p><p>She laughed, rocking back on her heels as she pushed off the railing.  “No, silly demon.  The one time you drove me <em>through</em> the river before the world almost ended.  I finally got to see what lives in it.  I didn’t think anything did.  How can something breathe water?”</p><p>“I think it’s a complicated process but fish manage to get it done.”  He waited a beat before continuing.  “Sorry about bashing you up like that.  Traffic was hell.”</p><p>“I know.  I had faith you’d fix me.”</p><p>He felt a twinge of guilt that things hadn’t ended better than they did and she was only back with him through Adam’s good graces.  “Please tell me you don’t want to go swimming.”</p><p>“Oh, no.  I want to see art, but I think we’d better wait for the angel.”  She swept by Crowley in her excitement.  “There he is!”</p><p>Aziraphale was puffing up to the entrance of the bridge clearly not happy about having to jog any amount of distance.  Crowley swaggered up to him as the Bentley paused to look out over the garden behind the museum with its crowds. </p><p>“You do realize you don’t really need to breathe.”</p><p>Annoyed, Aziraphale gave him a hard look.  Getting control of himself, he looked towards the building.  “Do you want to go fetch your car so we can enter?”</p><p>Walking through the Tate Modern gazing at paintings and sculptures, the Bentley pondered them.  She seemed most interested in pop art, spending quite a lot of time examining the works of Andy Warhol which were being exhibited right now.  Currently she was standing before one of his more famous works, pondering the canvas filled with images of commercially available items while Aziraphale waited patiently and Crowley wished she’d just get on with it.</p><p>“Why this one woman?” she asked.  “And why paint her over and over and why are some of the images smeared or barely there?”</p><p>“Who knows?” replied Crowley taking her arm to steer her away from the exhibit.  “He was American.  I can’t begin to explain them.”</p><p>“Crowley!”</p><p>“Well, I can’t, angel.”</p><p>“Americans?” asked the Bentley.</p><p>“Another country’s citizens,” replied Crowley.  “Shall we move on?”</p><p>They passed through the Turbine Hall, with its vast space and extremely high ceilings, on their way to other exhibits.  The Bentley stopped short, staring up at the skylights far above them.  Aziraphale was beside her in a moment, worried. </p><p>“What’s wrong, my dear girl?”</p><p>“It’s a room as big as outdoors.  Does the ceiling touch the sky?”</p><p>“I imagine they kept large equipment in here at one time.  Now it’s just an exhibit hall.  Not much to see right now but they do have large sculptures in here sometimes,” Aziraphale replied. </p><p>“Shall we move on to the next room?” inquired Crowley.</p><p>They wandered through the museum, taking in whatever the Bentley wanted to see.  Currently she was stopped before a painting titled <em>A Young Lady’s Adventure</em>.  She looked at the almost child-like watercolour influenced by Expressionism and Surrealism, studying it closely.  Aziraphale hovered near her while Crowley had a quick look around thinking the art this visit was boring.  Normally he enjoyed checking out exhibits at London’s art museums, but today it felt tedious as they moved slowly along explaining everything to the Bentley.</p><p>“It looks innocent but sinister at the same time,” she announced before switching subjects.  “Am I having an adventure?”</p><p>“I believe so,” replied Aziraphale.</p><p>“Shall we do something else?” an impatient Crowley asked.  “It’s dull in here today.”  He looked at the Bentley.  “We’ve been here a couple of hours.  Ready to move on?”</p><p>They ended up back outside, standing over near the modern restoration of the Globe while Aziraphale and the Bentley discussed tourist traps to visit, much to the demon’s irritation.  Crowley glared at the theatre with a jaundiced eye.  He remembered the original, conversations with Shakespeare himself and one demonic miracle done to make an angel happy.  This new version was a poor reproduction in his view.</p><p>“Fancy seeing Hamlet?” he asked out of the blue.</p><p>“Is it playing?” Aziraphale looked up from his conversation.</p><p>“No.  I’m just joking around.  I think seeing it once with you is enough.  You know I prefer the funny ones.”</p><p>“You two have such a history,” said the Bentley, her envy showing in her eyes.  “I’m never going to have that with anyone.  I’m just a car.”</p><p>“No, you’re not.  I wouldn’t own anything as mundane as ‘just a car’, you know.”  He regretted it as soon as it was out of his mouth because he once again he had to remove himself from her thankful embrace.   “Yeah, stop . . . not my thing.”</p><p>Aziraphale carefully cleared his throat.  “Anyway, we were both feeling a bit peckish and I suggested we find a place that serves fish and chips.  Nobody should visit London without tasting that.”</p><p>“She lives here.”  Crowley was giving him quite the unbelieving look from behind the sunglasses.</p><p>“In a different form.  Let’s just have some fun while we can.”</p><p>“Will I like eating?” she asked as they headed out. </p><p>“It’s one of the better pleasures of having a body like this,” replied Aziraphale, whose fondness for gourmet food was well-known to his demonic companion.</p><p>“Sleep is, too, but you don’t have the time to experience that.”</p><p>The Bentley just nodded, not really understanding eating or sleeping beyond the shallow conversations brought up when Crowley and Aziraphale were riding in her to one location or another.  Weren’t fish the animals in the water?  People ate them?  She inquired about it.</p><p>“But they’re alive!”</p><p>“Not when you eat them,” said Crowley, concentrating more on getting a taxi than the conversation.</p><p>The Bentley looked rather horrified, her eyes growing immense as she stared at her demon.</p><p>“Yes, well . . .” Aziraphale looked rather uncomfortable.  “People eat animals and animals eat other animals.  That’s just the way of the world.  Fish and chips are quite delicious.  You’ll see.”</p><p>One more taxi ride later, they were all three holding fish and chips carefully wrapped in paper while Aziraphale found them a seat on the patio of the small restaurant they ordered it from.  The Bentley sat down with her food, cautiously looking at the crispy golden pieces of fish in front of her with a side of chips.  She first poked at it then smelled it.  It actually smelled rather good.  She took another sniff.</p><p>“That’s not considered polite.  Just eat it,” said her demon.</p><p>She noticed that Aziraphale had coated his fish with a brown liquid he sprinkled on it from a bottle off the table.  She took the bottle as he set it down, examining the liquid inside.  She didn’t need to smell it to get a whiff of the pungent odor.</p><p>“What’s this?”</p><p>“Vinegar.  It’s traditional to put some on your fish,” said Aziraphale.</p><p>“Oh.” She looked at Crowley.  “Would I like it?”</p><p>He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’ve never had to feed you before.  Here.”  He broke off a small piece of her fish and handed it to her.  “Put a drop of vinegar on it and taste it.”</p><p>“Half a moment!”  Aziraphale lifted both small piece of fish and bottle from her and proceeded to drip a tiny amount of vinegar on the fish’s crisp breading before returning it to her.</p><p>She put it in her mouth slowly chewing it, her brow furrowing while she did.  Crowley watched her with interest; Aziraphale had one of his sweetest smiles on his face.  Carefully she swallowed it, looking from angel to demon.</p><p>“That tastes interesting.”  She could not adequately describe the sourness of the vinegar or the particular flavour of the breaded and fried fish but it was agreeable to her taste buds.</p><p>Aziraphale helped her put a moderate amount of vinegar on the rest of her fish and they enjoyed a rather relaxed lunch.  The Bentley noticed her demon didn’t eat much, picking at it while Aziraphale ate his with delight then started stealing chips from Crowley, who didn’t seem to mind at all.  By the time they were done, the angel had eaten not only his order but a large portion of the demon’s. </p><p>“What do you want to do now?” asked Aziraphale as he cleared away the mess left from lunch, including Crowley’s stuff.</p><p>The Bentley thought about it.  “I don’t know.  There’s so much of this city I’ve seen from the outside, but not the inside.  I’ve seen art.  Eaten fish.  Been above the rooftops like a bird.  What can I do next?”  She paused.  “What about that place where my wheels always end up getting clamped because you park me illegally?”</p><p>“It’s not like I can’t get you out of that,” muttered Crowley.  “And that would be St. James’.  Let’s go.”</p><p>When they arrived, the Bentley fairly sprinted into a grassy area, bending down to feel the blades while Crowley tried not to be embarrassed over her childish behaviours.  Aziraphale found it charming himself and beamed as he watched her. </p><p>“You can’t expect her to act normal,” he said as Crowley complained.  “She’s had a limited view of the world.  I do wish we could feed the ducks.  I think she’d like that.”</p><p>It was now illegal to engage in the activity that he had done so many times over the years when he had had to meet with Crowley.  It was a shame, really.  But rules were rules.  He looked around, spotting a vendor selling ice cream.</p><p>“Shall we get her some?”</p><p>“If you want.  I’m not hungry.”</p><p>Aziraphale visited the vendor, returning with two identical ice cream cones and handed one to the Bentley.  She looked it over, then watched him lick his, taking a tentative one herself.  Surprised, she pulled back from the cone, the sensation of cold tingling across her tongue along with the taste of sweet vanilla. </p><p>“I’m not used to feeling what freezing is like,” she said.  “And it tastes different from the fish.”</p><p>“Ice cream is sweet.  Fish is savory,” the angel said.</p><p>“Taste buds are interesting!”  She ate the cone with enthusiasm while Crowley watched her, amused for once.</p><p>“I vaguely remember being this naïve thousands of years ago.  And we didn’t have nearly the experiences that Earth offers.”</p><p>Aziraphale turned to him, surprised.  Crowley rarely talked about his days pre-Fall.  “Yes . . . that was quite something wasn’t it?”  He didn’t continue, not wanting to mar the moment.  “What do you think of the ice cream, my dear girl?”</p><p>The Bentley grinned at him, a bit of the stuff melting on the tip of her nose.  “It’s very good.  I like sweet.”</p><p>“We should go to the Ritz tonight,” said Crowley quietly.  “I think she deserves that.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded in agreement.  They watched her as she stood in the sunlight in front of the pond feeling the breeze on her face.  Her eyes were closed and her arms were out slightly to her sides as she caught the wind, feeling the difference of it over her human body as compared to her car one.  It was fascinating the way this body swayed slightly in stronger gusts.</p><p>“Why do ducks float?” she asked when she returned to the bench Aziraphale and Crowley had seated themselves on.</p><p>“Uhhh . . . they’re built that way?” Crowley shrugged, the knowledge of why ducks were how they were was unknown to him.  He worked on stars, not animals.</p><p>“Not like fish.”</p><p>“No, not at all.”  Crowley laughed briefly at the comparison between such different animals.  “Are you enjoying yourself?”</p><p>“I am,” she replied.  “Your world is so fascinating.”</p><p>“Good.  I’m glad you’re having a great time.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled to himself upon hearing that.  Crowley was finally coming around and allowing himself to have some fun with her.  He thought hard about what to do next as they had a few hours to fill before they could start to think about dinner.</p><p>“How about we take in a film?”</p><p>Crowley looked at the Bentley.  “We could.  You’ve heard us talk about them.  Want to see one?”</p><p>She nodded excitedly, so Crowley got his mobile and searched for a theatre in the area showing something that would appeal to everyone.  He frowned at his screen as he looked over the selection, muttering.</p><p>“Anything?” asked Aziraphale.</p><p>“Well, I think a lot of them would scare her, to be honest,” Crowley replied quietly so the Bentley would not hear him.  “And you’re so picky.”</p><p>Aziraphale squinted at the mobile, picking out a period piece showing nearby in half an hour.  “What about that one?  It shouldn’t alarm her at all, I’d think.”</p><p>“I guess we can always leave if needs be.  C’mon, Bentley.  Let’s introduce you to cinema, one of my favourite things.”</p><p>“What’s this?” asked the former car as Crowley handed her a box of popcorn that Aziraphale had purchased for her and they seated themselves in the dim theatre.  She poked at the light fluffy snack, getting butter on her finger then licking it off.  Aziraphale handed her a napkin and showed her how to wipe off her fingers.</p><p>“The things humans eat,” she said rather loudly before Crowley shushed her.</p><p>“Don’t let on you’re not human.”</p><p>“Oh.  Ok.” </p><p>The lights dimmed slowly, starting the previews and a barrage of questions for Crowley about them – why they were playing before the film, why they were so loud and how long until the real film started.  Finally he got the Bentley to settle down to pay attention to the screen before her instead of constantly whispering loudly in his ear.  The annoyed glances from other audience members were enough to tell him they were quickly becoming impatient with her impolite behaviour.</p><p>The film itself was mediocre in Crowley’s opinion, but the Bentley gushed enthusiastically about how it was the most wonderful film she had seen.  The demon refrained from pointing out that she had never been to see a film before, just listening to her talk instead.  Such enthusiasm!  He found he enjoyed it while simultaneously finding it exhausting. </p><p>“It was so loud and the people were so big and bright, but I did enjoy it.  And the popcorn tasted delightful.  I kind of like being human,” she said.</p><p>Crowley stopped dead in his tracks right there on the pavement in front of the theatre.  “Do I need to worry here?”</p><p>“I don’t mind being a car.  It’s what I was built as.  I’m not meant to be human, but this has been fun.  Although I wouldn’t mind being human again sometime just so we can have more adventures like this.”</p><p>“Oh.”  Crowley visibly relaxed. </p><p>Crisis averted.  He had been imagining what that would be like.  The naïve Bentley would have to live with him, which would be awkward, as she was certainly not equipped to be on her own.  It would be up to him and Aziraphale to teach her all about life.  The thought of that while being without a means of getting around had panicked him for a moment.</p><p>She walked ahead of them, allowing the two a chance to speak privately.</p><p>“Maybe you need to buy a new car and let her remain human,” suggested Aziraphale, half jokingly.</p><p>“She said she likes being a car, so leave it, angel.”</p><p>“She is enchanting.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>The Bentley returned with a question.  “The window decals you had in the past . . . James Bond.  Was that a film?  I remember when you put those on my windscreen.”</p><p>Crowley burned with embarrassment as they walked down the pavement, wandering aimlessly through the city.  She <em>had</em> to bring up those.  They had seemed cool then but now . . . he’d rather forget he had ever fancied the damn things.  His mortified mind failed to come up with a response, but her continued chatter saved him.</p><p>“I did rather like the jacket you wore back then.  So handsome.”  She smiled up at him over the box she still carried, half full of popcorn.  “Oh!  What is that?”  She went on ahead of them to investigate whatever had attracted her attention.</p><p>“You do know not many people’s cars are in love with them,” commented Aziraphale, who was enjoying this entirely too much.</p><p>“Not many people’s cars are human at the moment.”  Crowley turned towards him.  “Are we taking her to the Ritz or not?”</p><p>“Well that depends . . . do I feel like being a third wheel on your date?”</p><p>Crowley just sneered dramatically at him and walked off after the Bentley.</p><p>She was looking in the window of a shop that sold hand-blown glass figurines, gazing with interest at the fragile items on display there.  The figurines ranged from animals to mermaids to flowers on which landed butterflies.  She traced a finger over the window itself.</p><p>“Glass?”  She turned to look at Crowley questioningly.</p><p>“Yep.  Apparently people collect them.  I don’t see the point.”  Shoving his hands back in his pockets, he gazed at them with her.</p><p>“I thought glass was just for windows.  They are inventive, humans.”</p><p>“Yes.  I’ve seen a lot through the centuries.  You would have found it fascinating.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>He nodded at her.  “Really.  So, how about the Ritz?  Want to see the inside of it?”</p><p>She smiled brightly.  “Oh, yes.”</p><p>Later, as they were seated by the host Aziraphale and Crowley began their instruction of her on how to behave in this type of setting.  The Bentley tried to take in all they were saying to her, nodding as each whispered advice.</p><p>“Your napkin goes on your lap when it’s time to eat.”</p><p>“Sit quietly, don’t fidget.”</p><p> “It’s a lot of utensils, but start from the outside and work your way towards your plate.”</p><p>“Don’t smell your food or anything like you did with the fish.”</p><p> “Manners always.  Please and thank you.”</p><p>“Just let us do the ordering.”</p><p>“Don’t lick your fingers.”</p><p>“Don’t talk with a mouthful of food.”</p><p>“You’ll do fine.”</p><p>“Don’t get us kicked out of here, ok?”</p><p>She looked distressed at the end of that lesson, sitting in her seat as if she wanted to make herself as small as possible.  Her eyes were big, carrying a look of concern.  “I don’t think I can do this.”</p><p>“You can,” said Aziraphale cheerily.  “We’ll help you out.”</p><p>The tension lessened somewhat after they ordered dinner complete with a small argument over whether wine should be ordered since the Bentley had never drank before.  Aziraphale thought letting her taste it was not something to overly worry about since wine was not hard liquor, but Crowley had his reservations because wine tended to be an acquired taste.  Finally, they decided a bottle or two wouldn’t hurt as long as they kept an eye on her levels. </p><p>She was absolutely confused as to why wine was such an issue, but she had no idea about the effects of alcohol having never seen Crowley intoxicated.  He would never endanger her by driving drunk.  Even he didn’t trust his demonic powers to get them home safely when he was impaired, always sobering up first.</p><p>“So what are we eating anyway?” she asked quietly.  “Will I like it?”</p><p>“I do hope so,” said Aziraphale. </p><p>They started out with Norfolk crab with granny smith apple and avocado.  The Bentley eyed it dubiously as it was set in front of her.  Crowley and Aziraphale seemed to have no trouble with it, picking up their forks to start right away.  She reluctantly picked up hers as well and poked at it while Crowley shook his head at her.</p><p>“Don’t.  Just try it.”</p><p>She finally did, finding the crab rich in flavour, the avocado very savory and the apple tart.  She chewed her first bite slowly, trying to get a feel of the flavours in her mouth then finally swallowed it.</p><p>“What did you think?” asked Aziraphale.</p><p>“It’s rather good.”  She indicated the wine glass above her plate.  “May I try the wine?”</p><p>“Just take a sip.  You’re not used to alcohol and we don’t need you spitting it across the room,” replied Crowley.</p><p>She was less impressed with wine, finding it left a rather dry feeling in her mouth.  She took another small sip just to make sure before Crowley inconspicuously took the glass from her and set it down on the table. </p><p>“I don’t think I like it.”</p><p>“It does take some getting used to,” said Aziraphale. </p><p>He launched into a history of wine-making, most of which he witnessed firsthand if he didn’t have a mission to attend to, thoroughly boring Crowley, but not the Bentley. </p><p>“It was like I said to my demon.  You’ve seen so much.  I’m kind of jealous.”</p><p>“At least you’re getting to see some things now,” Aziraphale, ever the positive one, reminded her.</p><p>Crowley nodded in agreement.</p><p>First course passed and they moved on to the main course of Kentish lamb followed by a dessert of Ritz Chocolate Soufflé.  Aziraphale ate with zest while Crowley did his usual nibbling of the food before him before discreetly miracling what he didn’t eat over on to Aziraphale’s plate.  The Bentley tasted everything with the excitement of someone who had never put a bit of food in her mouth before.  It was all an adventure, indeed.  The lamb was strong and fatty while she found the basil seasoning to be peppery with subtle hints of sweetness.  She tried in her thoughts to put words to these tastes, soon giving up for lack of vocabulary.</p><p>Chocolate . . . well that she couldn’t get enough of.  What an absolutely exquisitely sweet food!  It was even better than the ice cream she thought as she savoured each bite she ate.  Crowley split his uneaten portion of dessert between her and Aziraphale.  She silently thanked him for that; he shrugged as if it was no big deal.</p><p>They left the restaurant satisfied. </p><p>“Well, I think we can squeeze in one last activity before everything’s done,” said Aziraphale.</p><p>The Bentley’s face fell.  “It’s that late?  I want this day to go on forever.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, my dear girl.”</p><p>“It’s all right.  I was meant to be a car and I do miss my usual form.  But this has been so much fun I don’t want it to end.”</p><p>“I kind of don’t, either,” said Crowley softly.  Out loud he said.  “How about we hit one of the jazz clubs in Soho?  Then we can just head back to the flat and hang out until . . .”  He broke off his sentence with a bit of an uncomfortable look.  “Sorry, Bentley.”</p><p>“Well, it’s inevitable,” she replied.</p><p>The Bentley loved the jazz club as she remembered the music and attitudes of the twenties quite well.  After all, she had been built in the middle of the Jazz Age.  Aziraphale and Crowley sat listening while nursing a couple of Prohibition Era drinks; the Bentley stuck to water. </p><p>“What is Prohibition?” she asked.</p><p>“A period in the twenties and thirties where alcohol was outlawed.  That was in another country, not here.  This particular club just features cocktails that come out of that era,” said Aziraphale</p><p>“But if they weren’t allowed to drink, how did they develop them?”</p><p>“Oh, they found ways around it,” said Crowley.  “Speakeasies.  They were illegal bars, but they were so much fun.  I spent a couple of missions over in America during that time and a lot of my time in those things.  They had drinks and music and other things if you wanted something harder than liquor.  Humans are willing to put anything in their bodies sometimes.”</p><p>“Yes, they are and let’s not go there.  Can we just appreciate the music?” groused Aziraphale.  He was quite enjoying the current trumpet solo and wasn’t up to listening to stories about Crowley’s illicit activities in Prohibition Era America.</p><p>“Oh, I was so young when I first heard this music.  I remember you parking me outside clubs and going in to spend almost the entire night.  Did you dance in there?”</p><p>“Not very well,” replied Crowley as he sipped his gin fizz.</p><p>She laughed at that and suddenly stood up.  Going over to Crowley’s chair she pulled him to his feet.  “Come on.  Let’s go dance.  It’s my night, I’m running out of time and I’d like to dance with you just once.”</p><p>So off they went to the dance floor where Crowley inexpertly twirled her around as she swayed her way through the song the best a car who had never danced before could.  They ended up bumping into each other, stepping on toes and outright getting in each other’s way, but the Bentley loved every minute of it, so the demon tolerated it for her sake.  By the end of the song, she was laughing and out of breath while Crowley seemed less irritated than he was when she forced him out there.  He led her back to the table where Aziraphale was enthusiastically applauding their efforts.</p><p>As the night wound down and the crowd started to thin, they also made their way out on to the pavements with the stragglers to head home themselves.  This time Crowley found them a convenient alley to hide in from where they transported with a snap of his fingers back to his flat. </p><p>“Well, I came into existence in this form about twenty-four hours ago now,” the Bentley said with a sad smile.  “I’m going to be a car again very soon.  I’d rather just leave the flat alone and not have you see me change back.”</p><p>“If that’s what you want.”</p><p>She went to Aziraphale first, giving him a long, tight hug.  “Thanks for everything.  I enjoyed meeting you this way and it was a lot of fun.  I hope I get to see you again in this form.”</p><p>“It was lovely, my dear.  You take care of yourself.  Excuse me.  I’ll leave you two alone for a moment.” He headed off to the kitchen to make some tea.  Crowley would need it and a sympathetic ear very soon now.</p><p>“I hope you had a good time,” said Crowley, smiling at her fondly.</p><p>“I did,” replied the Bentley.  “Your world is so fascinating.  We’ll have to do it another time.  I’d love to go to the Ritz again.  So fancy.”</p><p>Crowley raised a skeptical eyebrow at her.  “Can we do it again?  It is possible?”</p><p>She laughed at him.  “Of course we can.  Aren’t you my demon?  Can’t you change my form anytime you want to?” </p><p>“Well . . . yes . . .”  He thought about it a moment.  “How about every second Saturday of the month, I make you human and we can talk.  Do some things.”</p><p>“I like that idea.  Until then, I’ll be playing music to make your day better and watching out for potholes when you’re too busy arguing with your angel to pay much attention.  Don’t worry about me; I don’t mind being a car.  It’s been a grand ninety-three years with you and I look forward to the next ninety-three.”</p><p>There were tears brightening her eyes as she spoke and she longed to hug him one last time, but since he was rather wary about her touching him in such a way, she made do with stealing a quick peck there on his well-defined cheek.  He blushed ever-so-slightly despite himself before she walked away back out to her parking spot. </p><p>“I’ll try not to play too much Queen,” she called back as she exited the flat.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” he replied.  “I don’t mind it so much.”</p><p>He reluctantly closed the door, respecting her wish that she be allowed to become her normal shape without him watching.  Heading for the kitchen where Aziraphale was, he indulged in the angel’s specialty of comfort and tea, even if he never did care that much for tea.  A kind ear and a warm drink did wonders for him sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>~*~*~</p><p> </p><p>Crowley went out the next day to sit in the Bentley a moment without starting it.  No, not “it”, “her”.  Silently he caressed the steering wheel, running a finger over the dashboard while wondering if yesterday had been real. </p><p>“You in there?  I wish we could talk when you’re in this form but that’s probably asking too much, isn’t it?”  He leaned back in his seat scanning for any sign she could respond to him.  “I guess I was expecting too much.  I’m a human-shaped demon and you’re a Bentley-shaped vehicle.  Too far apart.”</p><p>But it wasn’t.  Before he could turn the ignition key, the Bentley did it for him, roaring to life with Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” blaring out of the radio.  Crowley broke into a smile.</p><p>“Hi there.  Shall we go for a drive?”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>